#rpmilitaryhunter

[militarytrash]

@rp-military-hunter asked for this meme (accepting)

Tyson is such a Pure??? 

[murderasscience]

Drops of rain fell from the grey clouds above Sebastian. He could see them, individually, it seemed. Though as each one fell to his face, the sniper felt nothing. The lack of physical sensation was a blessing, at this point. The bullet, a lucky shot from a dying man, had hit Seb in his chest. He’d been left to die on the sidewalk.

Tyson, the one who had always been there to look after the operations, had been in an adjacent building, watching from his cameras. It took him no time to make it to ground level and to Sebastian’s side. The pup lifted Seb’s head and placed it in his own lap. His hands nearly touching the wound and blood that covered the light grey shirt.

Sebastian shook his head slowly. “You’ve always been too good for this,” he said in a weak breath. “For Jim. And me. Your heart is good. Don’t lose that, Ty. Don’t lose the faith you have in people. You… I always wanted to be the man you believed I could be.”

His eyes closed, breath labored. “Don’t worry, pup. It’s just a scratch.”

[flight-of-the-thieving-magpie]

As a general rule, Tyson didn’t care about holidays. He spurned his birthday and avoided as many Jewish celebrations as his brother would allow him to get away with. Given sufficient cause, however, Tyson was willing to make exceptions.

Trying to one up the very attractive, but ultimately suspicious and habitually lying, Irishman was an incredibly important cause in Tyson’s books.

Despite having been on multiple dates with the other man, Tyson couldn’t say they were dating, but he also couldn’t think of a reason that would prevent him from sending a Valentine’s gift to Jim either.

Though he lacked a home address and definite surname, Jim had mentioned working at St. Bart’s on the first day they met. Tyson dropped off his package at the reception with a note reading, ‘To Jim, IT department: Irish, brown eyes, short.’ It wasn’t likely for another to meet that specification.

Normally Tyson agonized over giving gifts. He crafted handmade metal gift boxes, personalised for each person. In a way, Tyson felt as though he had to. It was trivial for him to spend money on a gift. He had to put effort into those boxes, to earn the right to say he cared.

With Jim, however, Tyson wasn’t going to go through those labours of love. Not this time, at least. He didn’t trust Jim enough to go through those efforts. Tyson was willing to take the time out of his day to say that, on some level, he cared about Jim, but nothing more.

If his gift did manage to make its way up to Jim, he would find a wicker basket of fresh French pastries waiting at his desk alongside a flask filled with sweetened coffee.

In carefully wrapped paper was a shirt. A lilac t-shirt - similar, though not identical to the shade Tyson’s Synesthesia projected onto the other man - depicted an cartoon-y Rosy Boa, saying 'ssssssensational’.

Finally, there was a bouquet of flowers. One of the more pointless lessons that had, supposedly, been an essential part of his upperclass upbringing had been learning the Victorian language of flowers. Tyson made it a point to exercise that knowledge whenever possible. If only to make hours memorizing lists between Latin lessons feel worthwhile.

Love in a Mist, meaning 'You puzzle me’, had been as easy choice. After some deliberation, he chose the blue variant. It contracted well with the yellow Goldenrod and Aconite, which respectively meant 'Be cautious’ and 'Beware’.

Columbine, specifically, purple Columbine meant 'resolved to win’. The white middle layer of petals complimented the Orange Mock beside it, simply meaning 'Deceit’.

In the middle of the bouquet was a sprig of blue Rhododendron. It had several meanings of simpler implications - 'danger’, 'beware’, & 'I am dangerous’ -  but Tyson intended the latter. A singular white-purple Sweet William was nestled between the Rhododendron’s flowers.

'Grant me one smile’ was a simple enough request, given everything Jim had asked of him thus far. Tyson didn’t expect Jim to understand the message, or put the effort into researching the flowers, but the former Lieutenant was confident that he would see his wish fulfilled regardless.

Jim hadn’t expected to hear from Tyson today, not least of all because he had resolved to stay away from the man for this holiday lest he begin to truly look as though he is desperate to win some sort of a prize. He vaguely recalls the other having mentioned something about disliking most holidays, or at least not caring much for them, and so Jim had planned to instead surprise Tyson with an extravagant dinner date the following weekend instead when he would least be expecting one. 

The items do reach his desk, and Jim spends a fair amount of time puzzling over them until he works out who they are from. The language of flowers is a mystery to him, and while he admires the colors and the arrangement, none of that means anything to him in particular. The shirt makes him snort, and other people in the office have a chuckle over it, a couple of girls cooing over his flowers and attempting to bum pastries off him.

[SMS: Shopkeep] You’ve got excellent taste, Tyson. That’s one thing I do know about you. [Sent]

[SMS: Shopkeep] I didn’t know you subscribed to such shallow holidays. [Sent]

[SMS: Shopkeep] If you’ve got something to say, darling, you ought to come and tell me yourself. If you’re not busy tonight at, say, seven. [Sent]

It’s a mistake, but he’s already made so many that one more isn’t going to matter. Jim can’t for the life of him come up with some other way for this persona to react to being showered with gifts this way. 

[mollythepathologist-a]

PSA

Sorry I’ve been a little absent the past few days. I have three exams this week so I’ve been studying. I will get back to everyone tomorrow night or this weekend. Promise. :) 

[flight-of-the-thieving-magpie]

FEBRUARY IS THE MONTH OF LOVE! - February 4th

Despite how long I’ve known this person, sometimes I still forget that Tyson is an OC. Never in all my years have I ever seen one that is so developed, so detailed, and so real. This mun is knowledgeable in so many areas, so creative, and so organized that it puts the best of us to shame. They’ve got a genuine gift for world-building, and when it comes to generating ideas for plausible plots, they are a machine. They’ve also got a way with words; sometimes I’m not sure whether I’m reading an RP post or some sort of poetry.

This muse has a solid history and a storied past, but is so flexible that he can fit into any universe with ease -- and the mun’s probably already figured out exactly how they would manage it! You will learn something from this writer and be much better for it, I guarantee it. 

@rp-military-hunter

[flight-of-the-thieving-magpie]

SO ANYWAY

// TUMBLR NEVER TOLD ME I HAD ANYTHING IN MY INBOX? EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE A BUNCH OF BIRTHDAY MESSAGES???

I am so sorry. Wow. Oh my gosh. Thank you guys! I’m not going to spam my dash because my birthday was four days ago, but a HUGE thank you to:

@mercuryblake @loyalbloggerwhowaits @mrjaspercollins @rp-military-hunter @thegovernmentsdaughter @iamhamishwatsonholmes @doctorcastielholmes42 and @octofied (THAT ART THO??? THANK??) 

-- for the birthday messages you all tucked into my ask box. BLESS. xoxo

[imreallyjustanactor]

The Dogs and the Shop

@rp-military-hunter

Nishka moved besides Rich as if she was glued to his side. He was proud that he trained her so well and even neglected his work so his dog was well behaved. It was something he didn’t regret.

He heard quite  a lot from the pet shop he was going to. Some dogowners told him about it and how expreienced the owner was with dogs and knew what food was good for them. He wanted to try that out especially since Nishka got picky with food(not treats, she loved it when Rich ate cheese) and brought her with him so he maybe had the opportunity to test out any food on her and not risking to have lots of uneaten food at home.

Finally he was there and opened the door to the shop. Nishka sniffed and wanted to drag Rich to various treats in the dog section. He shook his head giving a short sharp command and Nishka was beside him again, although that seemed rather reluctantly.

He walked up to the counter, to the owner perhaps and smiled a little. “Hello.. I might need your help with some dog food..” He explained straight away.

[sunshineandsemtex]

Note to self: the sofa, in the back of the shop? Not an ideal napping place. Jim’s got kinks in places kinks don’t belong, a stale feeling in his chest that says he’s been indoors too long, and an itch in his eyeballs that screams the need for caffeine.

He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, wills himself to his feet, and snags his suit jacket from where it’s slung over the back of the armchair that sits adjacent the sofa. He pulls it on, sure fingers dancing easily over the buttons in an act more familiar than breathing, bringing a small smile to his face as he tugs the sleeves to taut, releases them, and heads for the door with a stride as businesslike as it is oddly anticipatory.

He knows just who will come out with him for a cup of coffee!

A few minutes worth of brisk walking sees him outside Pup’s Pet Store, and he hums softly to himself before he nods, whatever’s held him up dismissed as irrelevant. Pushing his way past the doors, he calls out “Anyone home?”